


What Happens in the Closet, Stays in the Closet (Unless You Fall in Love)

by FruitfulMind



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Kaikaina NEEDS to know, M/M, Nerds in Love, Siblings that ask way too much information
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitfulMind/pseuds/FruitfulMind
Summary: Sometimes, siblings ask for too much information. Sometimes, it makes you realize stuff. Like the fact that you've been in love with a nerd ever since you practically first spoke to him.





	1. Chapter 1

"So, are you and the nerdy one banging yet?" Kaikaina asks between handfuls of chips. "Because he's totally not my type, but like. Are you?"

"What?" Grif asks, and there's so much embarrassment in his voice that even he cringes. God, he sounds just like Simmons-- Okay. Probably not the best thing to think about after your sister just asked if you've banged the guy. "No!"

Kaikaina made a sound between a scoff and a laugh, and Grif can tell without looking at her that she rolled her eyes. " _Suuuuuure_ you're not."

"I'm not."

"You're a terrible liar, bro." She says, finishing off the last of her drink. "Seriously. Are you?"

Grif feels his whole face heating off, and holy fuck? Did Donut leave the AC off again? Did they even have AC in this godforsaken base? He grunts, trying to change the subject. "What did you get up to in Blood Gulch?" Grif wasn't even sure he wanted to know, what with his sister could get up to in a short amount of time.

She piques up, starting on a tangent, "well there was a cop-- Oh. My. God. You totally rubbed dicks and stuff, didn't you!" She sounds WAY too happy discussing this. Abnormally so. "When?"

He's feeling his oxygen get cut off again, and he's struggling to think of a coherent answer. "It was just one time. Okay?!" He finally screams out, louder than he wanted. "And it was in a closet."

"Ohhhhh, was it 7 Minutes in Heaven style? Cuz you got to be careful with those! One time a 'buddy' of mine, we--"

"GOD! Will you shut up about that!" Grif groaned out. He didn't want to hear about his sister's sexual experiences, much less talk about his own.

"Whatever. She could tie a cherry stem with her tongue," Kaikaina mumbled under her breath. Grif chose to ignore it, as hot as it sounded.

"Anyway, it was one time. Just. One time. Don't make such a big deal over it." He sighed out. It wasn't as if he and Simmons had. What, with the stolen looks across the base, the lingering hand touches, the whispers-- Grif felt his heart beating abnormally quicker and he froze; it wasn't a heart attack. He hadn't actually fell in love with Simmons... had he? It'd all been a constant before, the touches, the looks, the whispers and inside jokes. But ever since that night, Grif had been desperate for more of that. Desperate for more of Simmons' attention; he'd been going as far as getting almost jealous. He really was starting to sound like Simmons. Maybe that was a side effect of falling in love? 

The more Grif thought on it, the more it felt real, and the more it dawned on him how true it was. He groaned a, 'shit,' as he allowed the cushiony beanbag chair to swallow him up. It _had_ happened, it was all true; he had fallen in love with a nerd. And not just any nerd, Simmons the nerd. The signs were all there over the years; all it took was one experience to push him over the edge and make him realize. Had Simmons realized it too?

"Uh... look. Sis, I'm gonna go. I uh, I got stuff to do." He got up quicker than he ever thought was possible, leaving the room. Grif was halfway down the hall when he heard Kaikaina yell, "tell your boyfriend I said hi!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a revelation thanks to his sister, Grif is on the search for Simmons. Will he find him? Will he finally say what's on his mind?

The door opened with a harsh hiss as Grif entered yet another room, only to be met with a gaggle of soldiers; still no Simmons. Excusing himself with a half-hearted wave, he strode down the hall, thoughts heavy with the nerdy man. Was he ever going to find him, or was Grif going to kill himself looking for Simmons? The longer Grif searched, the more it felt like a lost cause. He was about to give up all hope and return to his quarters when he heard a familiar female voice.

Goddamit, why didn't he think of this before? Of course she'd know where Simmons is!

Pressing the button with zest, Grif strode into the docking bay. His head swiviled around, finally catching sight of sand colored armor. "Lieutenant Jensen!" Her body stiffened by the sudden shout.

"Captain?" She asked with uncertainty, turning around. The lieutenant with two left feet teetered, nearly losing her footing -- and the box in the hands.

If he were any other person, he would've stopped her before she hit the floor. Then again, if she did get knocked out, there would be _so_ much extra paperwork to do. That, and it'd take even longer to find Simmons. Sighing, he grabbed her and the box before they hit the ground. Jensen staggered before regaining her balance, still in a haze. She waited before the world stopped spinning, asking, "Captain Grif? Why are you here?"

"Clearly making sure you don't hurt yourself." He sassed. "Where's Captain Simmons?"

"Captain Simmons? Oh, he asked Lieutenant Palomo and I to gather some supplies!" She said, stumbling over her words in her excitement. Her head shifted, looking for the box in question. "He said it was really important that these get to the engine room."

"He's in the engine room, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" She confirmed. "I'll take that to him--"

Grif held the box closer to him. If he brought the box, he had a reason to see Simmons, other than confessing; if all else failed, he could tell Simmons it was all a joke, drop off the box, and have good reason to nap for the next ten hours or so. "Nah, I'll... I'll get it to him." He said, pulling the crate just out of her reach. God, it was heavier than he imagined; how she was carrying it with such ease was beyond him.

Jensen stopped, carefully watching him. He didn't need to see her face to know she was taken off guard. "Are you sure, sir?" She asked, her lisp tripping her words. Grif nodded, struggling to hold the crate under one arm.

He had begun walking out ready, calling over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Do whatever you do in your free time. I'll get this to him."

The door shut behind him, leaving a very confused Jensen behind. Seconds later, Palomo popped up from behind the carrier. "Oh! Sweet!" He exclaimed, carrying a box towards Jensen. "That means we get to hang out more--" Looking at the door, then to Jensen, he cocked his head to the side.. "Wait, he's going to do _what_?"

_The things you do for love._ Grif groaned to himself. The thought of love made Grif's stomach and heart twinge in excitement. Now that he had time to himself, he wondered how he would tell Simmons. Something flashy? Nah, Simmons would freak out. A sudden kiss? It works in the movies -- but Simmons would freak out -- actually, he would freak out no matter how Grif told him.

That made everything ten times worse, and even as much as Grif would hate to admit it, worrying about feelings and confessing made him sound like Simmons. He huffed out, hoisting the box once more to his chest as he made his way to the engine room. He paused at the door labeled 'Engine Room', struggling to balance the box and press the button. The doors opened with a hiss, Grif's hand pausing over the button.

Whomever stood in front of him flinched at the sudden figure in the doorframe. "Grif?" They asked. "What're you doing here?"

Relief flooded through Grif, nearly dropping the box on the other's foot in his lax state. "Oh thank fuck. Can you take this thing?" He asked, already pushing the box onto the man. He took a deep breath, feeling an ache growing in his arms. "What is in that?!"

The maroon armored man stared. Between the sudden actions, and the fact Grif was standing in front of him, everything was a blur. He didn't register the man had spoken. "Uh..." He cleared his throat. "Parts for the Mongoose? What're you doing with it?" He checked the box, making sure it was all in order. With a pleased 'hmmm', he made his way to the work desk.

Grif watched him walk, finding himself a little too intrigued by the man's backside. "Jensen needed help and-- Mongoose?" Grif asked. Why was the name so familiar?

"Yeah," Simmons spoke as he unpacked the parts. "Sarge wanted Lopez to modify it." Though he wanted to tell Sarge a gun on the vehicle was highly illogical, he couldn't find it in himself to.

"Esto los va a matar a todos." [Translation: This is going to kill you all.] Lopez sounded from underneath the rubble that was the Mongoose.

"Yeah, thanks Lopez." Grif said absentmindedly. "Sarge DOES know we're on fighting them, right?" Grif asked, tuning out the noises of work. Instead, he focused all of his attention on Simmons.

Simmons opened his mouth, probably to talk highly of their leader. Instead, he seemed to be deep in thought. "I... don't know." He admitted, picking up the last of the parts.

Grif scoffed in what he felt was an less of an asshole way, and more of a 'god you're a dork' way. "Asskisser." He mumbled, smirking underneath his helmet. 

With an exasperated sigh, Simmons' hands rose above his head. "I'm not an asskisser for following instructions, Grif!"

"Sure you're not."  
"I'm not!"

The sound of tools hitting the ground broke up their squabble. Lopez wheeled out from underneath the rubble, grumbling in his monotone voice about, "Me voy si estás teniendo una pelea de amantes." [Translation: I'm leaving if you're having a lovers' quarrel.] Neither of the soldiers wanted to take the blame for Lopez leaving, believing him just to be taking a break.

"Did you come here just to tease me?" Simmons asked, remembering it was Grif who delivered the parts. Even Grif had forgotten the reason why he originally came, interested more now in getting a reaction out of his object of affection.

Grif tried to play it cool, but even he was having trouble remaining calm. He had come to confess, planning perfectly how to see Simmons without being suspicious. Of course now had to be the time he'd freeze up.

"Grif?" Simmons asked again, sounding slightly annoyed. "Is it important?"

_Now or never. Better think of something quick, Dexter Grif._ Grif started walking forwards, his feet shuffling against the floor. Once he was close enough, he stopped. "Its about the closet." Grif mumbled. As soon as the words came out of Grif's mouth, his arm was grabbed. Nervously, Simmons' head swivelled left, then right. 

Once sure the coast was clear, he whispered, "Grif..." It has that whiney twinge that normally Grif would hate, but right now it was the only sound he wanted to hear. "I thought we agreed we wouldn't mention it!"

"Nuh uh. No. We never said that."

"YOU did. You said you didn't want to talk about--"

"Simmons? Shut up." Grif says. Simmons' mouth clamps shut with an audible noise, more than a little heated with the dominance of Grif. Oh God. Was he heated or _heated_? Probably the latter. Grif's normally lazy ass barely made an order in his life -- unless it was for food -- and this was the first time he ever heard Grif's voice grow husky like that. Okay, so maybe that was a dramatization. Grif's voice hadn't grown huskier, Simmons was imaging it had.

"I've been thinking." Grif said. Simmons felt the orange soldier's stare from underneath his visor.

'Oh god,' Simmons thought out loud. _He's going to leave, isn't he? What if something happened? What if I was so terrible? Did I stare too much? Goddamit, Simmons!_ The room spun, even though he was stuck in place. 

Grif stared at his 'friend.' "Look, if you're gonna pass out, this can wait. Because it'll be _so_ damn rude if you do, I'm just saying--"

"Griiiiif!" Simmons barely wheezes out, the anxiety slowly killing him. "Just tell me!" He hears Grif sigh, and another wave of paranoia hits him, making him feel queasy. Its okay, he told himself, you can curl up in bed with a good book after this is done. How bad could it be?

Grif steeled himself, fighting through the god awful butterflies in his stomach. "Remember how you've always loved peanut butter, but then Nutella came along?" He found himself unable to stop, rattling, "and its like, 'I've never seen this stuff before!' but everyone else is like, 'its been around forever, Grif!'?" He takes a needed breath, continuing, "and your whole life, you've only had peanut butter sandwiches, but then one day you try a _really_ good Nutella sandwich?"

"What the fuck?" Simmons says. Its not like Grif hears him however.

"And you're wondering why you never tried Nutella before. You always were tempted, and its really the only Nutella sandwich you want your life? Heck. It may be the only sandwich you ever want in your life?" He sounds extremely serious (and a little hungry) the longer he talks about it. It was starting to worry Simmons. He's speechless, staring at the orange soldier. After a few silent moments, he realizes that it's his turn to speak.

"Did you just call me a Nutella sandwich?"

Grif paused. That wasn't the reply he was expecting. "That's all you're getting out of this?" He asked, feeling suddenly defensive. The longer Simmons remained silent, the more intense the feeling became. "Well, I'm offended," Grif scoffed under his breath, turning on his heel away from the maroon soldier. He began walking away, unable to help the feeling of his heart sinking; he also really made himself hungry, which was sort of a double whammy. Before he could go far, he's stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

He looks over his shoulder, and what do you know? Its Simmons. He doesn't know who he expected it to be, they're the only two in the room. Sarge was probably off trying to impress someone, and Donut... oh god, he really didn't want to know where he'd gotten off to. All he knew was he was glad they weren't there. "What?" Grif asks, still ticked off and upset. But when he looked at the familiar armor of his comrade of 15 odd years, everything felt alright.

"You... back there?" Simmons stammers out. His sentences are making no sense, and he's quickly working on that. "I'm your Nutella sandwich?"

"Uh, yeah. I dunno who else would be." Grif snarks.

"So what was that back there?"  
"What do you think it was?"

Simmons turns his head away from Grif's, still shy and bumbling, even though the other couldn't see him. "Well, there's a good chance it was a confession, but..."

Grif turns away, and starts walking. Or at least tries to. When the fuck did Simmons get so strong?

"Itsonlyaprobablechance," Simmons somehow gets out in one breath, "butIdontwantcredibleedvidencetotaintmytheory," he's about to have a panic attack, he can feel it. All the oxygen in the room just seems to disappear, the longer he talks.

"I don't know what you just said, but it sounded nerdy." Grif says. "Talk slower."

Simmons wheezed out, inhaling sharply as he tried to anchor himself. "My theory is you were confessing?"

"Okay, now make it sound less like a question."  
"Griiiiif!"

Grif couldn't help but laugh. Years, years he had feelings for Simmons, and now Simmons finally knew. "Yeah. I was confessing."

"I knew it!-- wait what?"

"I was confessing." Grif repeated, shrugging nonchalantly. It felt better, getting it off his chest. He wondered again why he was freaking out so much before.

Simmons didn't know what to say, right now his mouth wasn't allowing words to come out. He could only babble things that _sounded_ like words. "The closet?" He managed to finally sputter out.

"Yeah. The closet." Grif said. 

A comfortable silence hung over the two. It wasn't as awkward as the nights following their time in the closet. "I didn't even know you liked guys." 

"I still don't know if I do," Grif earnestly said. He tilted his head up slightly to look at Simmons. "But I like you." 

Ah, the comfortable silence ago. They both watched each other, both unsure of how to express their attraction to the other. After one awkward night in a closet after years of a slow burning relationship, how do you? 

Grif came in here with energy and a confident attitude. But at the moment, even he was unsure what else to do. He watched Simmons silently, wondering if his mind control abilities would finally kick in and will the other to do something. 

Simmons hands were traveling up and down the waist of his own armor, with Grif's eyes trailing after them. The maroon soldier cleared his throat, nerves still affecting his voice, "can I kiss you?" He asked. He never had anyone confess to him; usually he did the confessing, which was normally followed with crying. 

Grif smiled behind his visor. "I'd be offended if you didn't." He replied. He thought he sounded really cool, but to Simmons' ears, he sounded as nervous as Simmons was. Simmons inched towards the soldier, swallowing a shallow breath. His hands rose from his armor to Grif's helmet and to the hinges at it's sides, pulling the helmet off with care. Making sure it was safely placed doesn't, he turned back to Grif, who was suddenly a lot closer than before. 

"You're going to take it so slow?" Grif asked. Before Simmons could reply, his own helmet was being taken off. His eyes focused on the clearer image of Grif's face, taken aback by how utterly gorgeous Grif was. He swallowed hard, flustered by the closeness. Simmons wanted to tell Grif to be careful with their helmets, but when he felt the man's warm lips crash on his own, all thoughts of safety protocol were gone. His moan was silenced as Grif deepened the kiss, losing himself as his fingers sunk into Grif's long locks. 

Grif purred into the kiss, not realizing how touch starved he was for the other. He relished the noises their lips made with each kiss, finding his chest pushing against the other's as he lost himself within the warm kisses. Grinning lazily, he whispered in a bated breath, "have you ever kissed before?" Simmons froze under Grif's palms, the latter feeling a blush growing underneath his cool palms. 

By the first word, Simmons' voice was already cracking, "o-of course I have!" His offended tone made it all the more hilarious. "I've kissed loads of times!" He wanted to fight Grif more on how he was an amazing kisser, but found his mind grow hazy, the moment Grif led his lips against his once more. His arms went around Grif's waist, leaning into the man's touch. 

Grif's heart sped up, unable hide the smile escaping as he kissed the maroon solider. From half-lidded eyes, he painted a memory of this moment; Simmons' blushing face, the way his eyes fluttered shut, the pucker of his lips. Their lips meshed together, as if they were created to fit the other. They stayed that way, Grif's arms around Simmons' neck, and Simmons holding Grif by his waist, the two lost in the passion they were too afraid to show before. 

"Hey, you didn't pass out." Grif joked, the thought suddenly hitting him. Simmons didn't freak out, didn't faint, didn't run, like Grif thought he would. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the warm lips trail away. Grif groaned out, leaning forward to feel the warmth once more. He had waited too long to kiss Simmons, and didn't want it to end yet. 

Slowly, Grif's eyes flutter open, a complaint slipping out, when he sees Simmons. The quirk of the brows, the way the corner of Simmons' lips quirking up word; the face Grif was all too accustomed to. "Oh my god," his partner (in both senses of the word now, Grif guesses) mumbles as he's looking at the other. "I can't believe you." There's love mingled with his words, love that had always been there, if Grif had only listened. 

Listening was always one of Grif's weak points. But maybe he change that -- just for Simmons. With a lick of his bruising lips, he mimics Simmons' tone perfectly. "Shut up and kiss me, Simmons." Grif says. Simmons complies. 

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be a two parter! (Especially when I finish part two! I just needed more Kaikaina & Grif interactions)


End file.
